


Panacea

by Anonymous



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Minor Body Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Childermass makes an offering of self to the Raven King.





	Panacea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notkingyet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notkingyet/gifts).



Childermass is a man with certain unsavory tastes, predilections that are never spoken about, that are relegated to dark alleys and other seedy corners where most decent folk know better than to examine too closely.

With the disappearance of both Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and the return of magic to England, the entire situation was a powder keg waiting to explode. Childermass has never been what one would consider _decent folk_ , yet somehow he finds himself right in the thick of things, in one such alley way on one dark evening. 

Rain is pissing down around him as he searches for company when he senses the presence of magic, powerful magic. But Childermass turns too late, and the world quite literally explodes.

Things might have gone quite differently if Childermass had not made an offering to the Raven King not twenty four hours prior. The magic that he had employed was ancient magic, far older even than the Raven King himself and far from the respectable type of magic that Mr. Norrell advocated. 

Pernicious, Mr. Norrell might have called it, but Childermass had never been a man to follow the rules. There were powers at work here far greater than him, and perhaps some of Mr. Norrell’s practicality had rubbed off on him after all. At the stroke of midnight, Childermass had made an offering of self, of blood and seed, of saliva and piss.

The fire doesn’t burn Childermass as black wings engulf him. He can see nothing, yet when his stomach does somersaults he is quite certain he is flying. When the black wings around him thin, he shouts as he falls, landing painfully on his hands and knees on the rocky ground. The sun is high in the sky, clearly much closer to high noon than midnight, though it doesn’t feel like that much time has passed. Rising to his feet, Childermass first sees the hanging tree. Then—

The first time Childermass meets the Raven King, Childermass is unwaveringly certain that this is not in fact the first time that they have met. Childermass does not remember how or when their paths have crossed in the past, but he knows this face, knows the planes and angles that no painting or statue can ever hope to accurately reproduce.

The Raven King stands unnaturally still, his black eyes unblinking as he studies Childermass, and Childermass feels suddenly very much like a bug under a glass. Long fingers with black tipped nails cup Childermass’ cheek, and he tries not to shiver. 

Childermass had thought he’d known power, but this, this is something else entirely. He falls back onto old habits, a smirk tugging at his lips, as he looks up at the Raven King from beneath lowered lashes. “What do you require of me, sir?”

The glass that appears in the Raven King’s hand is filled with a familiar red liquid. His eyes hold Childermass’ as he tips the glass’s contents down his throat. Childermass has never fought harder to stay on his feet, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him as he swears the earth bucks and sways beneath his feet. Never has Childermass been so aware of the rushing of blood through his body.

The Raven King licks the traces of red from his lips before he speaks. “Few know enough to perform the ancients rites and even fewer still dare to use them on me. I find myself intrigued as I have not been in an age. Tell me, little magician, do you realize what you’ve done?”

Childermass might have snorted at the derisive name had his lungs not chosen that moment to seize, momentarily forgetting how to breathe as the deep bass of the Raven King’s voice reverberates throughout his body. 

Childermass is not a dull man, but in this moment he feels very simple. He knows precisely what he’s done, and that he is as much the ensnared as the hunter. The lies slip easily from his lips, his tone accusatory. “England is in turmoil, sir. Your book disappeared before I could read even a single line. If ever there was a need for you, it’s now.”

The Raven King steps forward, and long fingers weave through Childermass’ hair before yanking his head back sharply. Childermass exhales loudly through his nose at the pain, and goes stock still when the Raven King drops his head, brushing his nose against the curve of Childermass’ neck, breathing in the scent of him. “Now, now. You can do better than that. Vinculus is exactly where you left him. You didn’t offer yourself to me for the sake of England or your wayward master.”

A sharp nail presses into Childermass’ neck, drawing a hiss from him as blood begins to flow. The Raven King’s tongue follows the path of it.

Childermass reaches up and makes quick work of the lines of buttons holding the Raven King’s clothes in place, slowly revealing more and more pale skin. “For nearly two decades I loyally served a master whose beliefs were not my own.” Childermass dares to press a kiss to the corner of the Raven King’s mouth.

“Try better, liesmith,” the Raven King murmurs against his lips.

The Raven King strips Childermass bare, then breaks him apart. Childermass opens his mouth to scream, as his body stretches, bones snapping, cartilage tearing, but no sounds escape his mouth as the Raven King rebuilds him again. 

When Childermass opens his eyes again, the world is different, or maybe it is he who is different. 

Tilting his head to the side, Childermass considers what he’s seeing. The world was alive with movement and color, swirls of light the likes of which he’d never seen before let alone imagined.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The Raven King asks at his side.

“I—Is this magic?”

“Of a sort. Some may try their entire life to see the world like this, some go insane as soon as they do.”

“Is this madness then?” Childermass asks as he climbs to his feet, not remembering how he ended up on the ground, comfortable in his skin in a way that he’s never been before.

“What is madness beyond a different way of seeing the world?” Rising to his feet, the Raven King slips his offers his hand to Childermass. “Come, there is much to be done. England is waiting for her king.”

Childermass doesn’t hesitate to take his hand, and the world ripples around them as soon as he does.


End file.
